By Your Hand
by LastCross
Summary: Draco wanted to help the cause. Unfortunately, Harry thinks they've been betrayed. He takes revenge in his own hand. Warning: character death. Unhappy ending. May or may not have a sequel. Possible but not plans.


He had stopped panting by the time he got to the door. He knew it was the door because it had the most magic signatures of both Voldemort and Draco in this mansion. It swirled and twisted around Harry disgusting him how it had merged together in the air.

But it didn't matter. Soon he would rid the world of both magical signatures. No one would know. They all thought he was looking for Voldemort. Who would know if he slipped away for 5 minutes to end a pesky person. It was simply a matter of letting anyone know he was gone a little but. No one would miss Draco anyways. Everyone would think he had died in crossfires. And to be honest besides the dead Malfoys and Snape, who would even care if a certain someone disappeared off the face of the earth?

It was obvious that Draco was behind the doors. So Harry steeled his will and pushed the door open, walking into the room.

The first impression that Harry out when he got in was scent. It was overloaded with the musky smell of sex and cum. Disgusted but ignoring it for the mean time, Harry observed that the room was overly decorated in dark forest green with silver lining around the edges.

The only exception of color theme was the huge bed backed up against the middle of the room. Stripped of all covers, it was a blinding white. On top laid a long body that was equally as colorless.

Said person's body was laid on their stomach and showed off to the room pale butt cheeks. With their head resting on a green pillow, platinum blond hair was fanned out creating a halo effect on the person.

How ironic that image created, Harry thought. When he knew the opposite was true. That innocent looking body was really a wolf in disguise. Cunning, manipulative bitch.

Feelings of hate pulsed through Harry's body like a pulse. The desire to flip that body over and tighten his hands around the neck was almost overwhelming. Almost.

Instead, he drew his wand casting a spell making sure that Draco would not wake up until he wanted him to. Finally walking from the spot when he first entered, he stopped eight next to the bed looking down upon the body.

It was his fault that he couldn't get a moment's rest. Too much anger and hate packed down. And now they had the chance to vent with Voldemort's and Draco's death. Fitting for a dark lord and betrayer.

Ignoring the cum stains on the bed, he drew out the short dagger from his pants, and placed it on the bed along with his wand. Climbing into the bed and around the stains, he crawled to Draco, who was laying in the middle. From the near distance, he could see patches of bruises littered across the pale skin. Varying from deep purples, blues, greens and a sickly yellow. Maybe he didn't care what caused Draco to be in such a state. Perhaps he plainly did not see or did not want to but he carried on.

He flipped Draco on to his side. That move revealed more splotches of bruises. Around his wrist were deep red tell tale rings. But that didn't natter. Because all Harry paid attention to was Draco's face. Beautiful as ever, it only made Harry that much angrier.

Grabbing his wand and the dagger, Harry moved himself until he was straddling Draco's hips so he could down at him. With his wand, he cast a spell that allowed him to see through things to reveal objects like bones and organs. Using this, he took up his dagger and place it right above Draco's heart. Mindful of the ribs and positioning the dagger so it would go in-between the bones, straight down to the heart.

Harry could not remember how long he stayed in that position. It could have been a few seconds, perhaps minutes. Or even an hour. It didn't matter because it does change what he did in the end.

He gripped the handle of the dagger tightly with his right hand. With his left he placed it on top of the dagger to push downward. pushing down, blood dripped out slowly. The red exalted greatly by the blank canvas beneath it. About an inch down the flesh, Harry was stopped by major muscles. Getting on his knees, he shifted his weight so he could use it to his advantage. With a grunt, he used all his force to push downward. And it did sank down more, almost all the way.

By this time the bleeding sped up greatly. Mini streams were being formed and were spilling down on to the white bed. It was almost artistic on a certain level.

Picking up his discarded wand on the side, Harry released the spell that kept Draco underneath consciences.

As the pain registered, deep moans resounded in the room. Eyes fluttered open, not completely lucid from the blinding pain. However enough to recognize the person you was above him.

"H-harry . . . . . w-why?"

Bending over so his lips could almost touch his ears, "Because you betrayed me."

And with that, he got up and climbed off the bed. Wiping the red stains on his hand onto the bed, he stopped paying attention to the person who would soon die of blood lost.

"B-but Harry . . . . . I-i-i n-nev-" he tried to left up his head from the pillow.

He didn't care. It was most likely excuses the little bitch would make up so Harry would heal him. And even if he did believe him, Harry didn't have enough knowledge in healing to fix such huge wound. He turned and started to walk away.

Step. Step. Step.

"You h-have to believe . . ." a pause, "I-i planned . . . ."

_Step. Step. Step. Step._

"N-No, C-c-come back. . .Don't l-l-leave m-me. . . ." sounds of a sob started.

Step. Step. Step. Step. Step.

"H-harry . . . "

He reached the door. Opened it. Walked out the room.

"I . . . Lov-"

And shut the door.


End file.
